The Reluctant Lord (Dragon Lords) (7 page)

She heard movement behind her. Water stirred and dripped. How could she resist one quick look?

Clara turned back to him. He was her husband. She should be free to look if he chose to show her. Already the Draig custom of walking about half-clothed was very apparent. Instantly, her eyes were drawn to the crystal. It bounced against his chest as he lifted a foot from the water. The wet stone pointed downward, drawing attention to the illuminated breadth of his chest and the tapering of his lean waist.

Clara wasn’t so sheltered as to not know the difference between men and women, yet seeing that difference in very real, very naked glory was something else altogether. His member lay nestled between his thighs only to shift and move as he reached for a white square of material stacked nearby. He bent over to grab the cloth, giving her a full view of his backside. She had the strangest urge to touch him—it warred with the urge to quickly avert her eyes, which was overcome by the desire to continue watching.

When he stood, his eyes met hers. He gave her a knowing grin. Vlad clearly knew she watched and he didn’t care.

“You look nice with your hair down.” Vlad blotted his skin before moving to tie the white material around his waist.

Clara touched her locks. She’d brushed them out but had yet to re-braid. Her attention was drawn to her blue hand. “If it is not too much trouble, I would like to bathe.”

He gestured behind his bathing tub. “I had another brought for you.”

She moved closer to see where he indicated. There was a second bath.

Vlad drew his hands through his wet hair, slicking it back and wringing the excess water from it. He tilted his head to the side. Droplets rained behind him on the ground. His eyes narrowed and he lifted a finger to her chin, slid a thumb over her jaw in a light caress. “Would you like me to bathe you?”

“Bathe me?” she asked in surprise. He’d shocked her with that very same offer earlier. “That will not be necessary. I have no wish to reduce you to be my handmaid.”

At that, he laughed. It was a deep, rich, highly amused sound. He dropped his hand. “And I can assure you, my lady, I have no wish to be a handmaid. Such a position was not what I had in mind.”

“You plan something?” she asked for clarification. Her voice was not as strong as she would’ve liked, but for some reason she could barely catch her breath. Perhaps she had tied the flap of her robe too tight against her waist. She followed the movements of his hand against her face.

“This night is about discovery. I had thought to let you sleep, but since you are now awake I would like to continue with the custom.” He took a step closer, towering over her. His chest was near her face. She looked at the crystal, watching the pulsing light grow in intensity. It was as if she felt the pulsating rhythm inside her, slow and steady, unfurling in her lower stomach. “I would very much like to bathe you, my lady.”

“As a lady, I cannot allow that,” she answered.

“What about as a woman?” He dipped his head close to her ear. He didn’t touch her, but she felt his heat against her clothing and his breath against her neck.

“As a lady, I cannot allow that,” she whispered, not really thinking about what she said.

“Pity.” The soft tickle of his breath mesmerized her senses. Men did not get this close on her world. Well, one suitor had tried, but her father had thrown him from the estate and fined him a thousand space credits for the presumption.

“I have been instructed, if you wish to begin the next generation.” Clara had no idea a man’s nearness could make her all fluttery inside.

He laughed again. Clara stiffened, drawing physically back. She had not expected her offer to meet with such a response.

“I have never heard the marriage act referred to in such,” he paused, still grinning, “terms.”

“Thank you for the meal, my lord. I will now retire.” Clara forced herself to walk with dignity toward her dressing area.

“No, bride.” Vlad grabbed her wrist to stop her, instead directing her toward him. “Do not look so vexed with me. Your words simply took me by surprise. When I look at you, it is not with thoughts of beginning a new generation.”

“Oh.” Clara pulled her hand back. She lightly rubbed her flesh where he’d touched her. The pulsing crystal caught her notice, drawing her attention toward it. Monitoring her expression, she focused on projecting a serene image.

The blue paint probably did look strange to him. No wonder he was not thinking of taking her to bed. Then a terrible thought occurred to her. She was assured she made for a pretty woman. What if he was one of those men who preferred the company of other men? Such things were not unheard of. Lord Dane was proof of that. In fact, no one really cared if men took male lovers so long as they did their duty by their wives. Would Vlad do his duty by her and get her pregnant so that she could return home?

“I understand now,” she answered. “If you do not mind, I would like to bathe. Please, join the festivities if you like.”

“I cannot leave the tent. It is tradition.”

She nodded. Her hand went to her waist. Even if he wasn’t interested in looking at her, she still felt uneasy about allowing him to see. Yes, eventually he would watch her undress—as her husband—but it would not be tonight. Clara eyed him expectantly. He still wore the cloth around his waist and made no move to turn from her.

“Is it also tradition that you inspect me before the ceremony is complete? I assure you my race is compatible. I would not have been allowed to come otherwise.”

“It is tradition.” His voice sounded strained. Perhaps this was not pleasant for him.

“Very well, if it is tradition.” She turned her back to him and reached for her waist to begin unwinding the material. Her fingers shook, but she did not let any personal insecurity stop her from doing what she must. That was not the kind of lady she had been raised to be.

Clara slipped the robe from her shoulders and neatly folded the soft material over her arm. The thin material of her dressing gown offered little protection. She only now became aware of how very little. When she looked behind her, his eyes were on her, intensely watching. They made her nervous. Nothing about this man’s expressions was familiar. They burned with fire and struck with humor. They were open, yet unreadable. What was she to think when there was so much inside his gaze? She was used to the controlled, dispassionate expressions of her people. Things that need to be said were said with words, or they were just understood.

“Allow me to take that for you, my lady,” he said, quickly moving forward to attain her robe. She forced her fingers to release it. Without it to cover her front side, she found she wasn’t sure what to do with her hands. She thought about lifting them to cover her chest, to hide the fact that the thin material would reveal the color of her nipples to him. Or perhaps she should cross her hands before her hips, to disguise the light thatch of hair between her thighs. She opted to cross her wrists in front of her.

“As you can see, I am compatible.” Why was she stalling? She knew he expected to examine her. It wasn’t like her not to perform a duty.

“I can see little.” His tone was low, soft, dark. She couldn’t meet his gaze.

“Of course.” She had expected him to say as much. Though, as she reached to take off her gown, she found herself wishing he would feel at least something toward her. Even if he did not think of her in sexual terms, perhaps there could be some interest in her form, something, anything.

Once her hands started their task, they did not stop. She pinched the gown, pulled it over her head and draped it over her arm to keep it from falling on the ground. Instantly, he was there to take it from her. He set her clothing aside, placing them atop the wig on the table. Clara didn’t move, couldn’t move. She kept her eyes forward, her chin lifted. She didn’t dare look at his face, not yet. She was too afraid of what she would read in his expression. If it was disappointment or indifference, she would not be able to keep her feelings to herself. These people were so expressive, she was sure she would read such emotions easily. At least at home it was not always easy to tell what someone was thinking. Private thoughts stayed private. Here, she wasn’t sure there was such a thing as a private thought.

* * *

By all the gods, his wife was a true goddess.

Vlad could barely move. He held back, out of her eye line as he tried to get some semblance of control over his rampant desire. He knew this was going to be a difficult night, but he had no idea just how very torturous. His bride was the very definition of perfection.

Her long blonde hair fell over her back and shoulders. It teased him, showing just a hint of her breasts through the locks. The curve of her hips and ass naturally drew his attention. He gripped his hands into tight fists. When she’d worn the gown the bluish paint had covered her flesh, but like this he could see the creaminess of her complexion.

Her legs were strong. If he had to guess it was from hauling around the impossible weight of that gown she’d been wearing. Yet, despite the strength, she looked soft.

Vlad wanted desperately to test the suppleness of her skin for himself. Where she was yielding, he was hard. The idea that she was made to mold against him caused a very stiff, very potent reaction in his loins. Wet, soft, soft, wet. He closed his eyes briefly and nearly lost himself beneath the drying linen clinging to his waist.

Clara didn’t move and he didn’t stop looking. His hands began to shift, talons growing from his fingertips to dig into his palms. He felt the tingling insistence of the beast inside him. If he couldn’t lay claim to her like the human inside him wanted, the dragon wanted to surge forth to ease the desire. The Draig could not claim women in shifted form, and sometimes shifting was the only way to ease the longing of their intense sexual appetites.

Oh, but he did not want to ease the pain, not yet. He wanted to feel it, to look at her, to suffer in the sweet torture of what her body was doing to him. He forced the dragon back inside.

Perhaps he could touch her, just a little. Breathing hard, he moved behind her. His hand shook, but the scent of her was in his head—so sweet, so erotic—calling to him. With little thought as to what he was doing, he straightened his fingers and slid them between her thighs from behind. Instantly, she gasped and tensed. He watched her ass, seeing his hand buried between her legs. He slid the fingers upward, toward her sex. Heat radiated there.

Vlad closed his eyes and bowed his head. He focused on her softness, on her scent filling his nostrils. Her hair smelled exotic, like an alien flower he had never seen. The side of his finger bumped into her sex. Already she was wet. Her folds parted easily for him. He eased his hand higher, not stopping to think of his actions.

Clara’s body rocked lightly. Vlad pulled at his waist, releasing the drying linen. With his free hand, he took his erection and began to stroke, just as his hand started to rub his bride. She made a light gasping noise as he moved. The sound only propelled him on. His hand firmly gripped his shaft, stroking harder and faster. Blast, he wanted to be inside her. He turned his hand, forcing her legs to accommodate the change in position. When her legs spread just enough, he slid a finger up into her. Sweet, wet heat enveloped him.

By all the gods, it was too much.

Vlad removed his hand and quickly snaked it around her waist. He pulled her back against his hip while delving his hand between her thighs. This time, he stroked her from the front. He buried his lips against her neck, kissing her flesh through the tangles of her hair. When he opened his eyes, his shifted gaze made out the delicate texture of her skin. He looked over her shoulder, down her chest to two very ripe, perfect breasts. The nipples were hard without being touched, and he promised himself that he would taste them very soon.

Her ass pressed to his hip, the cleft flush against his flesh. He stayed against her as he turned just enough so his cock was near her hip while keeping her butt against him. He delved his finger inside her while his palm brushed along her clit.

He wanted to thrust himself inside her, but knew he could not—not yet, not on this night. So instead he opened the hand on his cock and pressed the hard shaft against her flesh while rubbing himself with the flat of his palm. Her hips jerked, as if instinctively starting their own approving rhythm. Her moisture flooded his hand. He bit at her neck gently, sucking and licking and kissing her through her hair. Oh, and those breasts, so close, begging him to touch them but just out of his mouth’s reach.

A low growl sounded in the back of his throat. “Touch your breasts.”

Her hands didn’t move.

“Touch your breasts,” he repeated into her ear before biting at the lobe. “Both hands.”

She lifted her hands and covered her breasts with her palms. He groaned at the sight of her delicate fingers, imagining what they would feel like cupping him. It was by sheer desire and willpower that he stayed braced upright as she leaned into him for support.

Vlad groaned. He swung her around to face the table, letting go of her sex long enough to push her over. She leaned with her forearms flat to the wood. Then, coming behind her, he pressed his cock against her ass, letting the cheeks caress him as he rocked against her. With his hands free, he licked the taste of her off his fingers before pressing the wet digits back to her sex. The other he used to explore her breasts and lock her tight to him.

It was easy to imagine he was taking her fully. With each thrust of his hips, her clit was forced hard against his fingers. He rolled a budded nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Sweet goddess,” he whispered. “My sweet, sweet temptress.”

Her body tensed and shook ever so gently. She was close. He could feel it. The tip of his crystal bumped against her back as he leaned over her. It caught his attention, reminding him that this woman was his, fully and completely.

Clara trembled again, this time jerking harder. She made a soft sound, so soft he would have missed it if he had not been so focused on her reaction. Vlad couldn’t hold back. He exploded, losing himself against her ass. The warm release slickened them as he slid easily a few more times.